The Twelve Days of Christmas
by ShellyStark
Summary: What better way to kick off the Christmas season than with a little bit of Holiday Fear? It seems as if Jim has something special planned for the holidays. Something that has the potential to claim many bodies. Molly can't hide her excitement and Sherlock can't hide his suspicion that Molly knows who's to blame. Just how far into it is she with the deliciously evil James Moriarty?
1. Chapter 1

Molly blankly stared at the television screen in front of her; her only movement being the occasional blink. She was vaguely aware that she was looking at some sort of Christmas programme, hell that was all that was bloody on this past week; but in the Christmas spirit, she was not.

He had left her with nothing. Well, that wasn't quite true; he did leave her a gun, just before he vanished of the face of the earth. Would it have killed him to drop her a line, a letter even, some sort of cryptic Jim-esque message letting her know that at least he was alive and well. Molly was almost positive that if he had begun a new game that it would be something that would be sure make headlines quickly; he loved to put on a show, her Jim. But there was nothing.

No headlines.

No breaking news.

No excitement.

No Jim.

* * *

><p>The sound of loud, steady knocking roughly woke Molly around three AM. Kicking the blankets on the couch from her feet and onto the floor, she fumbled with the remote control and turned off the telly and shuffled to the door, but not before grabbing her gun. If being with Jim taught her anything, it was that she could never be too careful. Slowly she undid the latch and pulled the door open. Molly rolled her eyes at the sight of the three men before her.<p>

"Look boys, I've told you a thousand times," Molly sighed, engaging the safety on her gun. "The last place James Moriarty would show up is at my door-step. Besides, what has it been, six months? At best? If Jim wanted to be found, I'm sure you would be the first to know," she nodded in Sherlock's direction. Behind him stood his ever faithful doctor and that pain of a man D.I. Lestrade.

"We're not here for Moriarty," said Lestrade.

"According to you," Sherlock mocked, under his breath, pushing his way into Molly's flat.

"Then why?" she asked, her annoyance growing as the three men were now invading her space, at three in the morning. "Have nothing better to do the night before Christmas? Feel the need to go and bother the mortician rather than -"

"Christmas day, actually," Sherlock interrupted.

"Never mind." Molly shook her head. "What do you want?"

John stepped up beside Sherlock and nudged him with his elbow. "Sherlock, perhaps this wasn't such a good idea."

"Nonsense John, I think she needs to know."

"Know what?" She asked. Her curiosity peaked.

"We have a body." Lestrade cut in.

"Yes, well, I see a lot of those," Molly dryly replied.

"You'll like this one," Sherlock smirked. "It was meant for you."

"What do you mean, it was meant for me?"

"We don't know that for certain," Lestrade said, "in fact if it wasn't for your constant nagging I wouldn't be here right now. I for one, actually have plans for tomorrow."

"Today, man, Christmas is today," Sherlock groaned and tugged on his hair. "My god, how hard is the concept of AM as opposed to PM, to understand. Now if the rest of you actually used those little minds of yours, you would see how clear this situation is and wouldn't doubt me for a second."

"And what situation would that be?" Molly asked, eyeing the detective.

"The victim was found hanging from a chain around his neck, attached to a tree, at an old abandoned fruit grove." Lestrade answered.

"What does that have to do with me? Wasn't some lost relative of mine was it?"

"Go on, Inspector, get to the good part," Sherlock grinned. Hands stuck in his pockets, rocking back on his heels, giddy as a school boy.

"There was a deep laceration on the right side of his chest," Lestrade continued. Tucked inside was a baggie with a note."

"A note?" Molly's heart skipped a beat and she tried her damnedest not to let it show. "What type of note?"

Sherlock, still wearing that stupid grin stepped up. "On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a young boy swinging from a pear tree." Sherlock recited. "Signed, Xxx"

Molly laughed, "And you think this is Jims doing?"

"He's been way to quiet for way to long," said John. "We know it's only a matter of time before he comes around."

"So some poor bloke gets killed, has a revamped Christmas carol imbedded in his chest and you automatically think of Jim? That's not Jim. That's not his style."

Oh but it so was her Jim, and she knew it. That was her Jim inside and out. The only downfall being that now Sherlock wouldn't rest until they finished what they started so long ago.

"I think it's time for you to leave," Molly said, opening the door and sweeping her arm out towards the hall.

"I just thought you should know Molly," Sherlock said as he brushed past her. "I'll be expecting more bodies; perhaps Moriarty will be one of them by the time this is over."

"I highly doubt that." Molly said with a smirk, closing the door behind them.

Sherlock had been right, that body had been left for her. Her very own morbid Christmas gift from her lost beloved. She could only hope that he would come to her soon, but that was unlikely. Jim would know that Sherlock would be waiting for him, he was probably counting on that; it was part of the fun after all. But she would have him back soon, and until then she couldn't wait to see what the rest of the eleven days would bring.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Okay….so I don't know if I will continue this depends on how my muse goes I suppose. The idea struck me in the middle of work, and seriously…there is something seriously twisted in my brain. I do love me some Molly and Jim though, especially dark!molly, so I'll do my best to keep going…if you'd like me to anyway :D Hope you enjoyed; let me know!<strong>_

_**-Shelly**_


	2. Day Two

**Day Two**

Christmas had always been so dull, but she played along. Smiling and chatting to her mum through a forced smile. Molly remembered enjoying Christmas as a child; looking forward to waking up and seeing what Santa had left under the tree. Then like every other child she had learnt that it was based on nothing but a lie to keep kids happy and it hadn't been the same.

She idly pushed peas around the mashed potatoes on her plate, casually nibbling at the tidbits of the dry turkey her father had attempted to cook. She would smile and nod, exchange the necessary pleasantry when need be, then go right back to tuning out all the annoying family chatter. She just wanted to go back home. Where she'd pop open a can of food for Toby, maybe she even had some turkey flavored, and spend her Christmas with the one family member she could stand to be around. But nope. Here she was, stuck at her parents, dreading the after dinner caroling session.

She felt a sudden vibration on her thigh and reached in her pocket to pull out her phone. _Maybe I'll get lucky and be called away for an emergency autopsy. _She thought, chuckling to herself. Emergency autopsy, as if such a thing would ever happen.

She glanced down at the screen. _One new message: private number._

She turned her head slowly from side to side, pressing down on the open key with her thumb.

**Dear me, I've never seen you look so bored.**

Molly's heart skipped a beat and she frantically scanned the room with wide eyes. The phone buzzed again and she nearly dropped it on the floor.

**Come now, I wouldn't make it that easy.**

She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and stood from the table, knocking back her chair in the process.

"Everything all right, Molly?" her mother asked.

"Hmm?" she squeaked, "Oh… yea…sorry… champagne, went right through me," she smiled politely with a fast nod, picked up her chair and rushed off to the toilet, locking herself in.

Molly ran her hands through her hair, laughing as she toyed with the phone between her fingers. Why here? Why now? She didn't dare respond, there was the chance it was someone trying to get information from her; but oh god how she wanted to. What a grand Christmas present that would have been.

**Perhaps your mum would let you come out and play?**Her phone buzzed again.

Molly drew in her bottom lip and grinned. What harm would a little flirting do?

**I'm not supposed to talk to strangers.** She typed in, her fingers eagerly drumming the back of the phone awaiting his reply.

**Even the people closest to us are strangers in their own way. And I've been…very…close to you, in every sense of the word. **

Her breath shuddered and a tingle ran down her spine. She glanced down when her phone vibrated again.

**You best get back, people might start to worry.**

She frowned at the message and sighed, slipping her phone back into her pocket and giving the toilet a flush for good measure before heading back out to that god awful singing that had already begun in the parlor.

* * *

><p>Molly pushed open the door to her flat and bent down to scratch the ears of the cat that was weaving about between her legs.<p>

"Let's find you some supper, yeah," she cooed, tossing her keys on the end table. Chicken, not turkey, but she was sure Toby wouldn't mind; she plopped the contents of the can into his bowl and gave him another scratch.

She padded her way into the bedroom, shrugging off her coat and returning it to the closet; she turned to see a small neatly wrapped red box with a green ribbon placed on her pillow. She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at the object, carefully approaching, not wanting any unexpected surprises. Molly picked up the box, untied the ribbon and pulled the top off. Inside was a piece of mistletoe. Not one of those cheesy plastic ones everyone carry's around on them or hangs above the door, but a fresh piece, still holding that winter frost smell within its green leaves. There was a quaint red ribbon tied at the top of the bushel, the ends of the fabric flowing down to meet the berries that bunched up in the middle. Molly twirled the piece of plant between her fingers with a small smile on her face.

She jumped when the phone in her pocket buzzed, her hand covering her chest. She pulled it out and wiped a finger across the screen to view the message.

**Happy Christmas, Molls.**

She closed her fist over the phone, bringing it to her face and breathing deeply. A smile tugged at her lips and she shook her head. Molly closed the box and placed it safely inside her bedside drawer, kissing the lid before she did so.

"Happy Christmas, Jim," she whispered, staring out her bedroom window, wondering if he was out there somewhere looking back at her.

* * *

><p>Molly's hand searched for the incredulous beeping on her nightstand with a groan. For the past hour it had gone off at least three times and it was hardly six in the morning. She groaned and opened up her messages; the first of which having rolled in at quarter after five.<p>

**Bart's in half an hour. Bring coffee. –SH**

Did he have nothing better to do the day after Christmas than to poke about her morgue? She moved on to the next; received at five forty.

**Perhaps someone should have bought you a watch for Christmas. –SH**

**You appear to have two other gifts waiting instead. –SH**

Molly scoffed, a smile spreading slowly making its way across her face. That brought her present count up to a grand total of four. The ones that mattered. The ones from Jim.

The last message had come not but ten minutes ago.

**Come quickly, my patience wears thin. –SH**

Molly rolled her eyes. Sherlock Holmes had no patience what-so-ever; she almost believed he didn't have a single human emotion behind those pale eyes.

Almost.

Just like she almost didn't fall for James Moriarty, despite after learning what he was. But she had seen such rarity in those dark black pools while he was lying beside her, stroking his hand down the length of her naked back and pressing, dare she say, sweet seductive kisses, to her shoulders. Oh yes, Jim had a human side. She had seen it. She had fallen hard for it; and now if he wanted to come out and play she was more than willing to bed him.

And Jim had all the patience in the world when it suited him.

* * *

><p>Molly pulled into the car park and wearily walked through the hospital doors. Was her newfound pair of eyes watching here too? Probably. Most definitely if they were in fact Jim's eyes. Even if he weren't there in person he would be doing via surveillance tape or by borrowed services.<p>

She stopped by the canteen to pick up Sherlock's requested coffee, pulling out her phone when it chirped as she approached the till.

**He won't be needing any cream ; )**

She hadn't the faintest idea why, but the text pulled at the corner of her lips in a slight laugh. Why wouldn't he just come out and say it already? All she wanted to see was those two little letters for once lingering at the end of one of those messages. But that would ruin his fun wouldn't it?

"Thanks," Molly muttered, slipping the cashier some money and heading briskly to the elevator, pressing the button for the morgue with her elbow. She pushed the stainless steel doors open with her back, when she turned right again; Sherlock was spinning circles on one of her stools, staring at the ceiling.

"How was your Christmas?" she greeted, attempting to make small talk, setting the coffee in front of him. He stopped in his chair and gave her a quick once over.

"Same as yours. Pointless holiday, wouldn't you say?" he smirked with a head tilt.

Molly scoffed, "Why am I here?"

Sherlock scrunched up his face and shook his head at her. "To do your job. What else?" He walked over to the two body bags that had been lied out on the two roll away tables. Molly noticed that the floor beneath them was slick with some type of substance. "Do be careful, wouldn't want you to slip." He circled around the bodies once and then went over to her desk and picked up a thick manila envelope, sliding out the contents and dropping them in front of her.

"Mark and Amanda Procter, early forties, assumingly, happily married…own… or I suppose owned a dairy farm just outside the city."

"So why are they here?" she asked with an eye roll. "Surely they have a local hospital."

Sherlock approached her and tapped the police file in front of her. "Why indeed Molly?"

She sighed and picked up the coroner report. "Cause of death: drowning, possibility of suicide. See there, you don't need me."

"Keep going."

"Sherlock –"

"Fine!" Sherlock clapped his hands together. "Victims were found in a milk tank. The farm had been closed due to family issues for a few weeks, on the day of reopening one of the staff went to clean out the tanks; upon draining he found Missus and Mister Procter's bloated bodies. Drowned in their own product."

"And suicide? Who chooses to drown in milk?" she smirked. "Who would choose to drown at all?"

"At least get to the pictures, Molly." Sherlock's lips twitched, his eyes zeroing in on her as she thumbed through the paperwork until she reached the glossy prints.

Something was etched into the ground by the tank, into the dirt, some sort of phrase. She flipped through some more. Pictures of the farm, equipment, inside the tank and at the bottom of the pile a close up on the dirt surrounding the tanker.

_Two curdled loves._ And beside it was a small heart.

Molly tried her damndest to hide the flutter in her chest, but she knew Sherlock more than picked up on it.

He approached her, picking up his coffee cup and sipping slowly, his cold grey eyes never leaving her brown ones. "What an odd suicide note, don't you think? Why, it's almost _harmonic,_" he whispered with a grin. "You should at least look at the bodies. It took a lot to convince that imbecile Lestrade to bring them here. But I knew you'd…appreciate it."

She stood at the table, her fingers in a knuckle with grip around the edge, keeping her breathing calm and steady.

"Well," Sherlock dusted off his hands, "I best be off, then," he said soundly with a nod, brushing past her.

"Oh and Molly," he popped his head back inside the morgue doors, "Thanks for the coffee," he winked and with a turn was gone again.

What the hell was did that mean? Was he being coy with her? He was only trying to get under her skin; Sherlock had known she had been with Jim on the night of the pool incident. It had been written all over her face the next morning.

Or so he had told her.

"_It's best not to play with spiders, Molly. First cobwebs, then chains," _ _he warned her and she smirked in response. _

"_Sometimes, Sherlock, it's the chains that keep us safe," she coolly replied, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow to him. _

Sherlock kept an interest in her since then, dropping by the morgue more often than usual, attempting to make conversation with her. She admired his ambition, she really did, but she was no fool.

Contrary to popular belief Molly Hooper did know how to keep quiet; especially about the important things.

About month after Jim had "disappeared" he came to her nightly for almost a week. Turning up in on her doorstep in a foul mood more often than not when someone had misplaced his trust and had to be dealt with.

"_But not you Molly-bear," he crooned in that low Irish accent, grabbing her chin in his hand. "No, even when playing lapdog to dear Sherlock, it's little old me who's in the back of your mind." _

_His hand moved from her chin to her throat, resting there, feeling her pulse quicken. He lips turned up when her eyes grew wide. Not in fear, but in anticipation. Jim let his hand trail down, over her breast and landing on her hip. He leaned in closer to her on the couch, his body hovering over hers, their lips only millimeters apart. _

"_You know who I am, what I do, and yet…oooohh," he chuckled, "Here we are, with you begging me with those big eyes of yours to take you right now." He pressed his body against hers and she let out a small whimper, her breath shuddering, reaching up and grabbing hold to the lapels of his coat._

_Molly's hands snaked around his neck and she forcefully pulled him down to her, her mouth crashing down on his, wasting no time in sliding her tongue in over his. He tasted of whiskey and chewing gum; she couldn't help but think how that was perfectly appropriate. The spice with its underlying sweetness; oh, how he loved to watch things burn with a smile on his face._

"_You're bad for business, Molly Hooper," he murmured against her lips with twisted smile._

"_But, you like bad, don't you James," she purred, pressing her lips to his and nipping at his bottom lip. _

_He moaned into her, it was a rarity that he let anyone call him by his legal name, let alone in such confines, but from her is sounded so…delicious. _

_She swiftly undid the knot in his tie and slid it out from his collar, letting it flutter to the floor. "And I can be sooo good at being bad," she grinned, her tongue darting out and taking in her lower lip. _

_She started working on his shirt buttons, running her hands up and down over his heaving chest, allowing her nails to drag along his skin. _

_Jim hated to admit it but he liked it when she took control, when she was forward about her intentions. He had resisted giving in for so long, but after he finally let go he learned that he could indeed enjoy himself much more. _

_And that Molly Hooper was not the shy mortician she pretended to be._

Molly's skin flushed pink at the memory; she closed her eyes and allowed herself to breathe. She hadn't seen him in so long, she longed for his touch. She shook the thoughts from her mind. She would be patient. He would show up soon or a later and she did not want him to see that she was pining for one James Moriarty. It would show weakness, and oh, how he hated weakness.

* * *

><p>She wandered back over to the body bags, careful not to slip on the cloudy substance on the floor. Her hand reflexively went to her mouth; she wasn't one to let smell get to her, but a body sitting in a vat of milk for two weeks…well, it was well past the point of expiration.<p>

Sherlock kept them out of refrigeration to make a point.

Molly had to turn her head when she pulled down the zipper. The body was so water, or in this case, milk-logged that the skin had taken on its hue, along with her eyes, and there was about an inch of fluid around the bottom of the bag. The mouth was slightly open and filled to the brim with what now closely resembled cottage cheese. She shook her head and closed the bag.

"You're going right back where you came from," she said as if the woman could hear her. Molly rolled her and her husband into side by side refrigerated compartments and called Lestrade to have them picked up and returned so they could be dealt with properly, in their own town.

"If this is a serial killer, Molly and if it is indeed Moriarty – " he began to argue with her over the phone.

"With all due respect, Inspector, have you ever seen a milk jug explode? These bodies are already permeating. I suggest you get them home so they can get into the ground…quickly. Happy Holidays."

Molly hung up the phone and ran a hand over her face. Twelve days of Christmas: one body one the first, two on the second…she was going to have to request some help if she was going to be staring into the eyes of twelve corpses in a little more than a week's time.

"What was the twelfth day?" she whispered to herself, humming quickly through the tune. "Twelve drummers drumming," she sang quietly. "Well that ought to be _quite _interesting." Her phone chirped and buzzed on her desk.

**Are we having fun yet, Molls? –JM**

The smile that broke out on her face was instantaneous, he had finally decided to come out and play.

**Shame I'm going to be so busy working. I'll hardly have time for any fun. –MH **

**You have the easy part. I'm the one who has to be…creative. –JM**

**There is always time for fun. I'll see to that. –JM**

She wanted to tell him that she missed him, that she needed to see him. But onn some level she was sure he knew and her begging would only annoy him. So she kept it simple.

**I'll be looking forward to it. –MH**

**I won't disappoint. Take care Molly-bear; daddy has work to do now. –JM**

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**.**

**A/N:Okay, so it took almost a YEAR for Jim to wiggle back into my brain...but he took hold real well...I'm supposed to be finishing last chapters on other things...and other Holmes stuff, yet here I am, working on evil Christmas fic! I'll try to keep it at a T rating, but just keep aware that there may be a rating jump in the future, that James is a sexy beast XD I can't be responsible for what he makes me write. **

**Won't you let me know you're thoughts? Unlike Jim, I do have feelings and it makes me happy to make you happy...so yea...leave me love...kay?!**

**-Shelly**


	3. Day Three

**Day Three**

Molly had been sitting at her desk, haphazardly popping almonds into her mouth and filing out reports for the bodies that had rolled in during the holiday, bobbing her head along to Christmas carols. Her actions had become quite repetitive; snack on nut, dust salt off hand, scribble down notes, glance at phone in desperation.

He did say he had work to do, the last time he said that to her it had been six months ago. But at least then he had left her with more than a fleeting text.

Sherlock and John walked through her doors not long after lunch, Sherlock immediately halting and shooting the radio on her desk an evil stare.

"I was under the impression you weren't fond of Christmas classics, Molly," he grumbled, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on a hook on the wall.

"I never said that." Her reply was short and to the point, never looking up from the task she had at hand. She had finally come to Rodney Aykers, the young man they found on the first day. She looked over the pictures with hidden adoration.

"I must have mistaken your constant complaining for something else then," he sneered with a wicked smile and a scrunched up nose.

Molly looked at him then, her eyebrows high in her hairline and her eyes rolled upward. "About _my family's caroling,_" she retorted turning back to her photographs. "Sound like a bunch of dying cattle, the lot of them."

John suppressed a laugh. "Well I for one happen to like it. It makes for a lighter mood in here, that's for sure."

"Doesn't it though," Molly smiled sweetly. "So much life!" she grinned, leaning back in her chair.

Sherlock groaned inwardly as he peered at the contents of a petri dish through a microscope. His teeth were gritted and he was drumming his fingers on his legs not to the beat of the music but in irritation. He lifted his head from his instrument and closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face.

"It's a bit loud, yeah?" he rattled off.

"No." Molly answered flatly.

"Could you turn it down anyway? It's distracting," he ground out, rubbing the back of his neck.

"If you don't like it, Sherlock, you can leave," she answered, one side of her mouth turning up.

It was funny how quickly her admiration for him had faltered. Once upon a time she had held him on such a high pedestal, watching him with big, brown, puppy dog eyes. Not anymore, not since Jim from IT became James Moriarty.

* * *

><p><em>Gay! Jim was most certainly not gay! How could Sherlock say such a terrible thing? He always said such terrible things. <em>

_She found herself locked in a bathroom stall, crying, over the cold wicked words of Sherlock Holmes; and sadly it wasn't the first time. On more than one occasion she had thought about taking out a pen and marking it 'Molly's Stall' for good measure. She splashed cool water over her face and dried her eyes in an attempt to compose herself and with a deep breath pushed the door open and ran face first into a hard body. Grey V-neck, tan khakis, a pair of hands automatically steading her shoulders…Jim._

_She glanced up to see him looking down at her with that quirky smile and a glint in his brown eyes; that quickly disappeared once he noticed the redness that was surrounding her own._

"_Everything okay, Molls?"_

_Molly took a deep breath, nodded, bit her bottom lip and shook her head. "No, no, it-it's just..." she brought a hand to her mouth and let her eyes fall closed._

_Jim caressed her cheek, tilting her head back up to look at him. "Hey now, what is it? You can tell little old me," he smiled softly._

_Molly reached up and took his hand, pulling him outside and into the courtyard, away from curious ears and wandering eyes. "Sherlock said something Jim, something horribly mean and hurtful, but he's never wrong."_

"_About you? Did he say something about you?" Jim's eyes narrowed._

"_No, you," she whispered. _

_A faint smirk passed over his face._

"_And what would that be? How can he say something terrible after just knowing me for a few moments? Hmm?" He lightly squeezed her shoulder and let his hand run down the length of her arm._

"_He…he said…said that you…that you were…" she stammered._

"_Spit it out, Molly," he laughed, "I've only got twenty minutes left for lunch."_

"_Thatyouweregay," she rushed out in one word, blushing deep red and hanging her head. _

_Jim hooked a finger under her chin and brought his face down to look at her. "Molly…honestly, that's ridiculous."_

"_You gave him your number Jim!" she cried out in a forced whisper, biting down hard on her lower lip._

_Jim leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He stayed silent for a few moments, watching her, his eyes growing darker by the second. The corners of his lips slowly turned upwards. _

"_Tell you what, we won't go out tonight. I'll come by your flat and because I really like you, Molly Hooper I'll tell you a little bit about me. Just a taste. Okay?"_

_Molly sniffed and wiped the fleeting tears at the corners of her eyes. "Are you…that way, Jim?"_

_Smirking, Jim bent down and pressed a kiss to Molly's cheek. "Not in the slightest," he whispered in her ear. "I'll see you tonight."_

_She never recalled agreeing to changing their plans, hell, she was going to cancel them all together. But she just couldn't find it in herself to say otherwise. There was something slightly…off about him. Something had shifted in the way he looked at her. What once could be taken as harmless schoolboy intentions was now as if he were stalking prey. _

_Part of her liked that._

_He showed up at her flat directly at six, not a minute earlier or later, announcing himself with three brisk knocks to her door. She was taken aback by his drastic change of appearance; no longer the standard jeans and a fitted t-shirt, but a crisp charcoal suit with a deep red tie, his hair slicked back and his hands secured behind his back with a one sided smirk on his face._

"_It's not polite to stare, Molly," his smooth Irish lilt floated into her ears._

"_I…uh…um…hi," she smiled nervously, fidgeting with her hands and gnawing on her lip. "C-come in." She stepped aside and watched as he glided past her. Even his walk was different now; he was so sure of himself, so confident, even in such a simple task as walking through a doorway._

"_Oh, do be a dear and have a seat," he said sweeping his arm over the couch. "Calm those pretty little nerves of yours."_

_Molly swallowed and nodded, sitting on the far end of the sofa. Jim rolled his eyes with a groan and sat right beside her, leaning in close to her with big darkened eyes._

"_Are you frightened, Molly?" he ran the back of his hand down her cheek, "No need to be frightened my little mouse, it's only me, just Jim."_

_She couldn't help but lean into his touch. "But you're not, are you," she whispered. Reaching up she hesitantly put a loose strand of hair back in place and let her fingers fall down his cheek. "Do…do you…"_

_He blinked, slowly, deep brown pools burning into her, and then wet his lips. "Go on, do I what?"_

"_You don't work in IT, do you?" Molly blushed and turned her face away._

"_Gooood," Jim beamed. "I always knew you were clever, Molly." His hands landed on her knees and he pressed down, causing her to look back at him. "But now things have to change…unless you don't want them to."_

"_What do you mean?" she asked sheepishly._

"_I'm not a nice man, Molls; I think you can see that. But I can be, when the mood strikes me. I genuinely do like you," Jim leaned in and pressed his face to her cheek, his breath warm on her skin, sending a shiver down her spine when he pressed an open mouthed kiss next to her ear. "I could make you sooo happy," he whispered before another kiss was made. "I could give you the world." _

_Her breath hitched when he lightly bit down on her ear lobe and he pulled back with a wicked grin. "Think about it, life is so much more enjoyable when you're being bad; and I'm the devil himself." Jim leaned in closer still so that they're faces were barely touching. "And judging by your eyes, Molly Hooper, I think you have just a bit of bad in you." He shrugged, "We can work on that."_

_He closed his lips over hers, gently coaxing them apart by with his tongue. She was more willing than he thought she would be, her hands roaming over his back and weaving into the hair at the nape of his neck. He nipped her upper lip and pulled away, earning a soft whimper in return._

"_I have to go. Business to take care of," he said flatly, getting up off the couch and straightening out his suit._

"_Will I see you again?"_

"_At the hospital?" he scoffed with a high pitched laugh, "No. But I'll come to you if the need shall come about. And it would be wise, for you, to keep quiet." He took her chin between his thumb and first finger, "I'd hate for something awful to happen." Jim flashed her a pointed smile, swooping down and pressing a kiss on her cheek. _

"_Stay safe, my little Molly."_

* * *

><p>"Molly!"<p>

Molly drug a hand through her hair and looked up to see John standing over her desk. "Sorry, late night. You say something?"

"Unexpected guest by any chance?" Sherlock lulled from across the room.

"Sherlock," John scolded, "That's quite enough of that."

"I'm never wrong, he'll show up, just you wait." Sherlock muttered under his breath.

John sighed and shook his head in a disapproving manner. "Right, anyway, Mrs. Hudson thought it would be nice to have a get together for the New Year. Sherlock's not too pleased-"

"Understatement," the detective's voice drawled.

"-About the whole thing but it would be nice if you could come."

"Sound's fun." Molly agreed with a nod and a smile.

Sherlock's phone beeped and it wasn't long before he was walking towards the coat hook with a satisfied look on his face. "Grab your coat John, seems Lestrade has more bodies." He opened up the cupboard and tossed a coat to Molly. "You too Ms. Hooper, the more the merrier!"

* * *

><p>"What do we have Inspector?" Sherlock asked gleefully rubbing his hands together as if he were a child about to receive a sweet.<p>

They were at an old shipping yard, still used by local fisherman but for little else. It had been called in by a security guard just a few hours ago, but by the look of the bodies Molly had figured they had been there well since morning.

"Three women, early to mid-thirties, no apparent connection to one another, save this," Lestrade rambled on behind her becoming background noise as Molly teetered in the gravel to get a closer look.

"May I?" she nodded to one of the men on duty.

"Be my guest," he scoffed, tossing her a box of rubber gloves, "I'm not touchin' 'em."

Molly snapped the latex over her hands, circling the bodies, giving them a good once over. Three women, differential in age, one blonde, two brunettes. The first was simple enough, neck broken with a profound twist. The second was folded up with a broken back, her feet made to be in alignment with her heels. When Molly got to the third she had to look twice. The lower half of the body was completely twisted, leaving her top half facing up and her lower half facing the ground. She noticed something, a tattoo perhaps scripted across the third woman's back.

Molly kneeled down and lifted the bottom of her shirt, _hens_ it read, and it was branded into her skin not inked. She quirked an eye brow and shuffled over to the second body. With the way the woman was positioned her eyes were drawn to her stomach and Molly again found herself lifting a shirt. Branded down the abdomen of woman number two was the word _wrenched. _When Molly reached the first woman Sherlock was kneeling over her, brushing the hair away from her neck and smirking to himself proudly when he exposed the red bubbling flesh of the word _three._

"Three wrenched hens," Sherlock sang mockingly. "Hello Mister Moriarty," he whispered with a grin, shooting Molly a warning look.

"Wrenched?" Lestrade scrunched up his nose.

"Wrenched," Molly repeated. "To twist or turn suddenly or forcibly." She needed to leave, she couldn't be here for hours on end with Sherlock hovering over her every move.

She sucked through her teeth with a tight smile. "They've been here since early morning easy," Molly muttered, "Have fun getting them back to the morgue, I have reports to finish." She pulled off her gloves and disposed of them in the nearby bin.

"Oi! What do you mean have fun getting them back?" Lestrade called after her.

"They're well past the point of rigor mortis, Inspector. I'm a mortician, not a corner. You want to re-break the bones on that one to get her into a proper bag you go right ahead."

* * *

><p>Molly flopped down on the couch, gave Toby a scratch and began flipping through television channels. Rolling her eyes at all the crap telly that flickered on the screen before her. She had come to disdain almost everything that was on. Reality shows gave her the occasional laugh, with all the lying and cheating. It showed people as they really were, but other than that, everything had turned to shit. She didn't even know when she stopped pressing the up button, her fingers just stopped moving and she tuned everything out, sedating herself to the purr of the fuzzy companion by her side. It was done to make her feel normal anyway, even if she didn't actually pay attention, the simple action made her feel a small amount of normalcy.<p>

Molly's phone chirped in her back pocket and her eyes popped open. Her smile grew as her fingers fisted around the small device and slid the unlock symbol across the screen.

**Television rots your brain. –JM**

Molly smirked. **You rot my brain. –MH**

**Oooh, you wound me so! –JM**

**I see he dragged you along on this one. Can't say I'm too fond of that. – JM**

Molly sighed, dragging a hand through her hair before she replied. **It's not like I had a choice in the matter, Jim. –MH**

**I know, Pet. Never the less, did you like it? – JM**

**You're a clever boy, James, so very clever. –MH **she took in her lower lip with a coy smile, picturing his smug face on the other side of the line.

**No, sorry, children are clever. You, you are brilliant. –MH**

**So very brilliant, James and so very mine. –MH **she hesitated before pressing send, wondering if maybe she had pushed it too far. It was so hard to tell his moods through text.

Her phone was silent for a long while. Perhaps she made him angry, maybe he had business to take care of, whatever the reason he was gone and she might as well turn in for the night. She clicked off the telly and padded into the bedroom, stripping down to a tank top and underwear before sliding under the covers. She plugged her phone into the charger giving it one last hopeful look; the light went black.

Molly closed her eyes and sighed, her hands folded on her chest. She felt the world around her slipping away, a door was closing fast over her mind. The beeping of her phone jolted her awake and sent her heart beating. She reached over to the night stand with an iridescent smile.

**I wish I could be there, Molly. Honestly. –JM**

This was the Jim she fell for the hardest, the one who hardly ever came out of his massive shell. But oh, when he did, oh, how she adored him for it. James Moriarty's heart was a tender and beautiful thing when exposed; it was just hard to draw it out.

**I understand and I'll be here when the time comes. –MH**

**Soon, love, real soon. –JM**

She held the phone to her chest, drumming her fingers along the back casing whilst letting out a deep breath. That would be the end of him tonight, she knew that. She turned her head to the window, knowing he was watching her from somewhere. _It wasn't fair_ she thought, that he got to see her but she was denied the same privilege.

She pressed a kiss to her fingers and gave the window a small wave in hopes that he was still watching and then Molly Hooper fell back into the comfort of her bed of feather pillows and let the door shut with a slam over her consciousness.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well I must say this is the longest I have been in a Molliarty mood, you awesome people have a lot to do with that! Thank you sooooo much for your awesomeness. I wish you guests had a ff account (looking at you Alice and belovedstar) so here is a shout-out to you, since I can't reply! I have to sleep now, seeing as it's 5 am (oops) I'd really love to hear some more from you guys! The more love the more bodies...well...until we hit day 12.**

**Shelly**


	4. Day Four

**Day Four**

Molly woke with purpose now. She had a reason to drag herself into St. Barts and see what was waiting for her in those refrigerated cases or what Lestrade would drag in. She checked her phone, slightly disappointed that he hadn't sent anymore messages during the night. Disappointed but not surprised. He never texted for banal chit chat, it was always business related. Well, almost always, he slipped up occasionally and let his human side shine through the light of the LCD screen. She finished up her morning routine and set off to work, checking her phone once more, scowling as she slipped it back into her pocket. She sighed, gathered her things and stepped out the door of her flat. Her cell finally chirped as she was fastening her seatbelt in the car. Her heart skipped a beat, her hands flying to her back pocket and sliding her thumb across the unlock key.

**Desperation isn't fetching on you, my dear. –JM**

Molly pursed her lips at his words. Desperate? She wasn't being desperate; she missed him, was all. How could he take that for desperation? Oh, right, because he was James fucking Moriarty. Desperate? He was the one who was starved for attention, he was the one who came back seeking _her_ out, he was the one made damn sure his name was well known across the city. Oh, no, no, no, it was quite the other way around. Even so, he wasn't a man to be trifled with and she thought long and hard about her response.

**Is it desperation Jim? Or a starving hunger that we both can't seem to satiate.-MH**

**I get to **_**watch**_** you, Molly. Have you forgotten that? My hunger pangs are kept at arm's length…for now.-JM**

She bit her lip, annoyed further that he was practically bragging that he got to see her and all she had of him was a few lousy texts. But instead she would play his game. Her fingers flitted down and undid the first two buttons on her top, exposing a dainty bit of cleavage thanks to her push up. She smirked to herself, re-pocketing her phone and heading to the hospital.

* * *

><p>Molly was going over the coroner reports from the past murders; she kept them close at hand she enjoyed looking at his handy work and being able to use her aiding Lestrade as a cover to do so. She wasn't much help to the Detective Inspector though. Sure she told him what he wanted to hear and she did clue him in to what he needed to know, but nothing they couldn't figure out on their own, not any small details that would pin this back on her sweet Jim. He would make his identity known when needed; she only silently hoped that she would be able to keep her distance when it happened. It was what she hoped, not what she figured, her loyalties lied with James, and for him she would do what needed doing.<p>

The corners of her mouth twitched up as she studied the bruising that the chain had left around Rodney Aykers (victim number one)'s neck and she briefly imagined if Jim ever imagined bondage play. Not in quite that manner of course, but the thought of her, or him for that matter, completely helpless and at the other's disposal really got her motor running. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, enjoying the slight friction it provided, letting out an audible sigh. The morgue doors burst open and Lestrade stalked over to her desk, dropping a police report.

"The bodies will be here within the hour, I wanted to give you a heads up." Lestrade shook his head with a sigh and drug his fingers through his grey hair. "Glad you weren't there for this one, but the pictures are just as bad. This is one sick bastard we're dealing with."

Molly flipped through the pictures. Four women, all mildly attractive, naked as the day they were born, and posed in sexually active positions…with each other. Each of them had their throats slit, but there was little to no blood around the bodies. He had previously drained them before setting them out for display.

_Nice touch Jim_, Molly thought to herself.

Around the bodies there were tiny slips of paper littered everywhere. She squinted and brought her nose in closer; they were prostitution adverts and typed across one in bold face, plain as day were the words 'Four Call Birds'. Molly glanced up to catch Lestrade's eyes resting on her small amount of exposed cleavage. She cleared her throat.

"Ahem…"

"Right, while the blood draining is new, the M.O is still the same. I'll do my best to keep Sherlock out of your hair, but I'll tell you, Molly, I haven't seen him this out of sorts in quite some time. He's convinced it's Moriarty and that you know more than you let on."

"Honestly, Greg-" she drew out his name with a breathy sigh, "That man led me on to get close to John and Sherlock and in the end it ended with a bomb strapped to John's chest. Does that sound like a man I would want to help? Someone that would hurt my friends?" She really played it up, forcing tears to pool in her eyes as she talked about the events at the pool. "He played me, and like the dumb girl I am I fell for it." Molly stood and rounded her desk so she was toe to toe with the Inspector, "I just wanted to be noticed," she scoffed and blinked back more tears, "But silly old Molly Hooper will always just be the girl whose only friends are already dead." She turned her back to him and downcast her head, giving a small sniff.

"Molly…" Lestrade began but she held up a hand in protest.

"Just go Inspector, please." She forced out a sob. "I have work to do now." She whipped around and stormed out the mortuary doors with her hair swishing behind her and a small smirk on her face once she was safe inside the confines of the toilet.

She buried the heels of her palms of her hands into her eyes to make them appear red and splashed some water cool water on her face; taking pride in the act she had just performed. Her phone chirped and from her pocket.

**Nicely done, Molly-bear. –JM**

She smirked and ran her fingers across his letters. She could have said thank you, she could have flirted and enjoyed the moment, but she was in dangerous territory now and she knew it. Molly straightened out her clothes and returned to her work, making sure to make driveling sniffs as she stalked back into her steel doors. Another chirp came as she sat down behind her desk.

**Was there any truth in all of that? –JM**

She rolled her eyes, hoping he could see her real well from where ever he was watching. **What Jim? –MH**

His response wasn't immediate and she soon knew why. James Moriarty wasn't one to talk openly with others.

**How you felt. –JM**

Of course it was true. What girl doesn't want to be noticed, especially one that has gone so long without any attention of sort in so long. And then swoops in this cute young man from IT and sweeps her away, even when he turns out to be something dark inside she finds that she likes that; because deep down she's not all rainbows and sunshine either. She sighed, running a hand through her hair and this time allowing a real tear to seep out. She quickly batted it away with her fingertips before replying.

**Jim…-MH**

She bit her lower lip and let her head fall to her desk. Damn him for being so infuriating! She longed for him and hated him at the same time. She just wanted things to be normal, normal with Jim from IT, but he was gone. Now she had Moriarty and morals be damned she loved the hell out of him. Her phone went off again. Not the faint chirp of a text but a profound ring. She glanced down at the blocked number and thought long and hard before sliding her finger across the answer key.

"Hello."

"Molly, please." Jim's low Irish tone flowed into her ear and her heart all but stopped beating in her chest. It had been far too long since she had heard his voice and now she didn't want it to end.

"James," she licked her lips and let out an audible sigh, "You see straight through me, surely you already know the answer."

She heard him bite back a frustrated groan, "Why can't you just say it, Molls?"

"Why can't you?" Molly argued, not bothering to hide the tears behind her voice.

"I noticed you Molly Hooper, if I didn't you'd be dead by now…and you know that," he bit back, "So don't you get teary eyed on me, not when I can't be there to do anything about it!" She heard him inhale sharply. "Shit," he muttered.

Molly smiled and let out a short laugh that extended through her eyes. "You're letting your human side show, James."

"This is why I prefer to text," he ground out.

She could just picture him, sitting there in one of his pristine suits, watching her on one of his monitors, pressing his palm to his forehead in frustration at his emotional slip up.

"Of course I did," she stated plainly, answering his former question.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Fall for you."

A pause.

"Which me, Molly. I'm a complex man."

"All of you, James." She licked her lips and let her eyes slip closed, resting her head in her hand.

He let out a deep breath and she squeezed her eyes tighter together in an attempt to stop the tears behind them. God she needed to see him. "I have to go."

"Jim, wait-"

"Sorry, Molls." And with that the line went dead and she buried her head in the folds of her arms.

What had she become? Pining over a consulting criminal, an evil genius…her evil genius. She could have sworn that he had missed her just as badly, only he was able to cope with it easier than her. He had the ability to shut himself off to the world and keep everything buried on the inside. Unlike Sherlock who hadn't allowed himself to love. Well, no, that wasn't true. She had no doubt he harbored some sort of love for his dear doctor, but nothing he would risk putting his heart out in the open for. No, he kept that all to himself.

The door squeaked open and in walked said consulting detective.

'_Well speak of the devil'_, Molly thought to herself. Behind him were four police men pushing four gurneys with four body bags on top.

"Delivery for one Molly Hooper!" Sherlock cheerily grinned as he sauntered his way into her space. "A handful of prostitutes to brighten up your day!"

"They've certainly brightened up yours," she remarked dully.

"Indeed they have, Molly, indeed they have." Sherlock clasped his hands together in front of him and rubbed them vigorously. "Moriarty is bound to have left something behind, and I will find it." He took a step closer to her and snagged the police report off her desk. "Tell me, Ms. Hooper, have any of your scalpels gone missing?"

"No." Molly replied firmly. "This isn't Moriarty, Sherlock. This is just some sick Christmas spree killer."

"Oh no, Molly, I'm never wrong."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Molly sat in the bath, her hair billowing out around her in the warm water, her thoughts constantly drifting back to Jim. Always Jim, no matter where or what she was doing she could always revert the thought back to Jim in some manner. She plucked her phone carefully off the lid of the toilet and punched in a text.

**I want to see you. –MH**

It was a full ten minutes before he replied. Typical.

**Not yet. –JM**

Molly scoffed loudly at the simplicity of his words. What happened to the Jim she was talking to this afternoon. He never stuck around very long.

**Fine. –MH**

His reply came much quicker this time.

**Don't be like that, Molls. –JM**

**I can't tell if your pouting or not.-JM**

She smirked. Well at least he couldn't see her in the privacy of her own toilet.

There was a brisk knock at the door and with a groan Molly pulled herself out of the tub and threw on her robe. There stood Sherlock Holmes, leaning against her door frame, grey eyes shining and a mile wide grin plastered on his face.

"What do you want, Sherlock? I was in the middle of a bath."

Sherlock reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out an evidence baggie and wiggled it in front of her face with pride. Inside rest a stainless steel hospital grade scalpel, stained with blood.

"I told you, Molly, I'm never wrong," he smirked.

"I confirmed they were cut with a scalpel, so you found it. Big whoop." Molly rolled her eyes on the outside but on the inside she was coming undone. There was no way Jim messed this up, he couldn't have, not intentionally.

"I'll figure out where it came from soon enough, Molly. I just hope it wasn't from Barts."

"What an unfortunate coincidence that would be. Can I go back to my bath now?"

Sherlock smirked, "Enjoy it."

She locked the door behind him and pressed her head hard against the wall. She was jolted by the sound of her phone ringing and she dashed off to get it. Molly didn't even have time to answer before he flew into her.

"What did he want? What was he doing there? What did you tell him? Talk to me Molly!"

"Christ, Jim, breathe!" she scolded into the phone, sinking into the couch. "Whoever you sent to do in those prostitutes left the scalpel behind."

"FUCK!" She heard him scream followed by the sound of broken glass hitting a wall.

Molly huffed a breath, she wished she was there, angry Jim was a force to be reckoned with, but one she had dealt with before and it was much easier in person.

"James calm down. You and I both know how meticulous you are in picking your men; if the weapon got dropped I'm sure it was done by mistake. Even so, the probability of them tracing it back to you is going to be hard to do. Sherlock will try his damndest but they will start with people with access to medical equipment and such. Now…please for the love of god, Jim, tell me that thing didn't come from Barts."

Molly could hear his ragged breathing start to slow on the other end of the line. He was far from calm but his temper was slowing.

"What? No! Molly I wouldn't be so stupid, honestly, I thought you knew me better."

"Does anybody…really?"

"You do, more than anyone." He went quiet and they both listened to the sound of each other breathing.

Jim let out a sigh, "Three days. Give me three days and I'll see you."

"New years?" Molly chuffed.

"I'll be in touch." His end of the phone went quiet and with a sigh she hung up, her fingers lingering on the screen. She quickly pounded in a new message.

**I miss you, James. –MH**

She had waited this long to say it, but what the hell, she might as well throw it all out in the open. He was coming to see her soon and she never knew how long they would have before he would up and leave again. Besides it was his fault, calling her, letting her hear his voice after all that time, she couldn't hold it in any longer.

She slipped beneath her covers and sunk her head into her pillow, giving her phone a fleeting glance.

It chirped and she quickly snatched it off her night stand.

**I know. -JM**

**.**

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**A/N: OHHH HAAIIII So I'm back from my NaNoWriMo adventure...and I actually finished this year (YES!) talk about big accomplishment for myself! Anyway...I really needed them to talk to each other...anyone feel like it was rushed? Hmmm? Hmmm? There is still a few chapter until they see each other but they needed more than this texting mess. Although I love texting flrity Jim...hes lovely. So now that it's actually Christmas season I hope this little tale gets more readers... and reviewers (hint hint) because seriously I love you guys and I really enjoy talking with fellow Molliarty people. Especially when it comes to my dark!Molly...she's my favorite in case you haven't noticed. Just a quick note if you are new on board...I'm an American writing in a Brit fandom...so forgive me for any boo boos in that area...I try, I really do, and I respect other authors that do the same that write in American fandoms, you guys are awesome, also, I do have a medical issue and I'm quite lazy so updates may or may not be regular...sorry. With that I bid you adieu. Now please review and let me know your thoughts. Jim will leave a nicely wrapped body part for each one :D  
><strong>

**Shelly**


	5. Day Five

**Day Five**

Molly did her best to ignore the banging in her head. She turned over and covered herself in the blankets, using her pillow as a shield from the noise but still the noise didn't stop. What the hell was it anyway? Construction? Gunshots? Her neighbours? She groaned in frustration and blindly thrust her hand towards her bedside table searching for her phone. 3:15am it read. She had to be to work in less than three hours and it was at this time she realized the noise was coming from her front door.

Pulling out the gun from the drawer next to her she tiptoed to the door and looked through the peek hole. Nothing. Not that she could see anyway, but still the banging continued, vibrating the wood on its hinges. She took a breath and cracked the door and it shoved open as far as it would allow until stopped by the chain. Slumped against it was the bloodied body of one Sebastian Moran, Jim's number one and one of her least favorite people. It wasn't that they didn't get along, it was…jealousy? No. She wasn't jealous of a man. Was she?

"Shit," she swore under her breath, pushing the door shut enough to unlock the chain and allow him entrance to her flat. "What are you doing here?!" she commanded.

"Well I couldn't go to a proper hospital now could I, little Mouse," he panted. He was dressed in a black suit (not as dapper as one of Jim's), white shirt (that was now half red), and a bow tie that was already undone and hanging loosely at his shirt collar. "Besides, it was Jim's idea."

"Yeah, 'course it was," Molly drug a hand through her hair, rolling her eyes.

"Said you kept a kit on hand after he showed up in a state the first time. You know…just in case." Sebastian stumbled slightly, most likely because of the loss of blood and Molly shoved herself beneath his shoulder to steady him. Not that it would do much. The man was over six foot and well built, no match for her small frame; but she would try none the less.

"Right, let's get you cleaned up then." She sat him down on the edge of her tub, just as she had done with Jim oh so many nights ago (but this time there would be no shagging involved) and retrieved her kit, setting it on the lid of the toilet. Sebastian managed to shrug off his jacket and undo his white/now red shirt exposing a large gash that expanded the length of his abdomen.

"Christ, Seb, What happened?" Molly winced as she began to mop up the blood with a clean cloth.

"Oh, you know. The usual." He kept a stern face as she worked, she expected him to, he was a man of little emotions, unlike her Jim. Jim who had so many emotions but only let the bad ones show…unless it was her; she got to see a whole different kind of Jim on occasion. Albeit it was for a short amount of time.

Molly pressed hard against his wound and furrowed her brow.

Sebastian hissed.

"Come again?"

He sighed, "Just cleaning up today's mess, is all. As you can imagine Jim wasn't too happy about what happened."

"I know."

That imbecile tried to get the best of me when I came after him." Sebastian winced when Molly inserted the needle but didn't make a noise. "He was fast…I was faster."

"Why didn't you do the job to begin with?" she inquired, tying off the thread.

Sebastian snorted. "I'm not one for petty crimes, Molly. You know that."

Petty? He thought Jim's work was petty? And here Jim thought he had one of the finest snipers available working under his belt only to find out that said sniper thought his work was petty? It was Molly's turn to snort.

"Since when is James Moriarty's work too good for you? I never heard you complain before. You seem to be well off too."

"No need to be defensive, Mouse, I was only being honest."

"So was I."

Molly bundled up a wad of gauze and squirted alcohol across his gash. Sure she could have used something else, something a little less painful, but he had struck a chord when he ridiculed Jim and for that she would make him just a tad uncomfortable. Sebastian jerked and hissed at the contact and a grin smeared across Molly's face.

"Oh, dear me, I am sorry about that," she smiled and sweet was thickly poured into her mock apology.

Sebastian scowled and looked away, keeping his mouth shut while she finished dressing his wound. Molly wrapped him a few times and tossed his soiled shirt in the bin.

"You can sleep on the couch if you like, or leave. You're choice; I'll be gone in the morning. Oh, and if you do stay, be a dear and feed Toby in the morning. It's the least you can do for waking me up less than three damn hours before I have to be in for my shift." Molly heard him scoff but didn't bother turning around. She had done her job and stitched him up like a good girl…well mostly. She went to the hall closet and dug out a blanket and tossed it on the couch before trudging back to her own bed. Not that she was going to enjoy her last two hours –glance to the clock 4:05- scratch that hour, hour and twenty minutes at best. The expected chirp came moments after she lied down.

**Thanks, Molls. –JM**

Molly rolled her eyes, she had only done it for Jim after all, he needed Sebastian. Just like he needed her. Molly hoped he needed her more but these were only hopes and false hope kills more readily than bitter truths…especially when one knew who the source of those truths were.

**I'm quite fond of crass Molly. Even so, I do feel bad for poor Sebby. There wasn't any need to be that harsh, my sweet Molly-bear. –JM**

Of course he would feel bad for his number one guy…pet? Whatever he was. What did that make her? Never mind, it didn't matter, really it didn't. Because the man had downed Jim's doings after all and that in Molly's book just didn't fly, plain and simple. That was why she had made dear old _Sebby_ so uncomfortable.

**He called your work PETTY, James. I was only reacting. Sorry if that got under my skin, but I thought your work meant more to you than that. No matter how small the job. Because doesn't it always add up to the bigger picture, doesn't it always? –MH**

**You're so clever, love **** That's why you're you and Seb is a gun for hire.-JM**

**He can think what he likes about me, so long as he gets the job done. -JM**

Molly sighed, drumming her fingers on the back of her phone thinking of a reply that wouldn't put him off.

**And what am I exactly, James? –MH**

* * *

><p>In the building across the street Jim Moriarty watched his dear Molly stare conflicted at his message before returning one of her own. He adored watching her, having her so close but still so far away. If she only knew that he was just a stone's throw away from her what would she do? Would she come to him? Yes. What a stupid question. Even to ask in his own head. He knew the hold he had on her was a tight one and unfortunately for him her grip was becoming quite solid as well. His mobile beeped and his lips quirked upward at her response. He loved it when she called him James; it stirred his insides in an inexplicable manner. Seb had tried it once…he was pressed against the wall with a chamber pressed to the bottom of his throat in mere seconds. But not Molly, no, never Molly, with her he had simply allowed it. Jim drew his sharp teeth across his lower lip while he typed in his single word answer and hit send.<p>

**Mine. –JM**

He zoomed the camera in to get a better look at her reaction, hearing the familiar chirp of her message being received. Her face broke out into a grin and she shook her head with a small laugh. A slow smirk wormed its way onto Jim's face, large and most definitely genuine. For she was as much his as he was hers, and for some odd reason he didn't seem to mind that much.

"Good night, Jim." He heard her whisper once her bedside lamp was switched off and she was nestled back down into her bedding. That same bedding he had shared with her on more than one occasion.

"Night, Molly," he murmured aloud to particularly no one but himself and still with that stupid smirk slathered on his face.

* * *

><p>Molly was late to work, not very, but enough to know it wasn't going to be a good day. Moran was in fact sleeping on her couch when she woke so she had to mostly get ready in the dark and attempt to be quiet in her rush. Which was over as soon as she dropped and broke her coffee mug on the floor. She swore loudly and half assed swept the mess up and tossed it into the bin. Now there was no time to make more, and the canteen had shit coffee. But she would have to make do, what choice did she have. Sebastian sat up and cracked a sleepy eye at her and grumbled something under his breath.<p>

"Feed the cat," she commanded, pointing a finger at him. "And don't be here when I get home."

She saw him roll his eyes but he gave her a knowing nod before he fell back down into her cushions. She hurried out the door, slamming it behind her.

It didn't get any better from there. A slew of corpses awaited her, ones she hadn't been able to attend to thanks to Jim's little game. Most of them were elderly; there had been a poor robbery victim, pretty young girl. Molly had almost felt bad for the girl….almost. By the looks of her clothes and the amount of makeup that was caked on her face she was asking for it anyway. So she cut, bled, and hacked away; filing reports and continuing on with her mundane job. Well…it was mundane for the moment.

Her lunch hour came and went and that's when the worst of it came. As she was now standing in the middle of her morgue with a dark wet coffee stain running down her pristine white lab coat. John had come busting through the doors with a flustered look on his face with Sherlock in tow who was grinning like a madman.

"A warning would be nice," Molly mulled, making a fickle attempt to dab the stain away. "Rushing in here like that, honestly, loud enough to wake the dead, the two of you," she continued to scold, stripping away her now ruined coat and going to the cabinet to retrieve a new one. A female officer was next to enter, Donovan, pushing a gurney with only one body bag.

Odd. With Sherlock smiling like that it had to be another Christmas slaying (-smirk, slaying, sleighing…oh never mind)…so shouldn't there be five bags?

Sherlock strolled over to her radio and flipped it on, searching through her Holiday music CD until he was pleased with his selection, and then proceeded to turn the volume up. He then, uncharacteristically strolled over to her and grabbed her hands in his and began to twirl her around humming loudly.

"Freak," Donovan huffed, shaking her head as John stood by and watched with pursed lips. Donovan turned on her heel and left the three of them to do their bidding.

"Isn't it marvelous, Molly?!" Sherlock exclaimed, "Another gift left just for you!"

Molly rolled her eyes and yanked her hands away. "What are you on about?"

"The bag, John!" Sherlock called with a smile that reached far into his pale eyes.

With a heavy groan John rolled the table over to them and unzipped the bag, folding the edges down so they could get a good look at what was inside. "You might want a look at this as well," he said sullenly, handing her the police report. Clearly John did not share Sherlock's feelings on the matter at hand.

Molly took a step forward and gasped, her hand covering her mouth. She was shocked, a tad disgusted, slightly amused…only slightly. Staring back at here was not only one but five severed heads. Differential in gender as well as age…and by the looks of it time of death. One of them was a little more than ripe. Sherlock leaned over her shoulder and tapped at the folder in her hands. Molly quickly searched through the papers, forgoing the legal mumbo jumbo and skipping right to the photos. He had chosen an abandoned field, with nothing in it but a lonesome tree. Its branches naked and bare from winters harsh kiss. Or they would have been, had it not have been for the make shift slings that hung there, a head in each one. There was no message this time; there was no need for one, the message was painfully clear.

Sherlock spread his arms wide and twirled in a circle, the radio, still on repeat, still playing that bloody song in the background, serving as his soundtrack.

"FIVE HEADS IN SLINGS!" he sang out when the time was right, earning yet another groan from John.

Sherlock crossed the room and closed the gap between him and Molly, bending down slightly to be at her level. "I will get him, Molly Hooper, I promise you that." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned on the spot, humming the rest of the carol in his wake.

John switched off the music as soon as Sherlock cleared the doors, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He too then approached Molly and raised a finger between them, with a stern look in his eyes, a look so foreign to be seen on the face of the ever timid Doctor John Watson. Molly raised her eyebrows in question.

"If it's Moriarty, and you've known…it will end badly. You know that."

Molly blinked rapidly. "J-john are you…are you accusing me. After what happened to you! I'd like to think you're my friend, John! P-perhaps I was mistaken." She turned her back to him, turning on her crocodile tears and letting a wicked smile crack through.

She felt a warm hand land on her shoulder. "Of course I'm your friend Molly, but I'm his friend as well…and he's never wrong."

"Seems to be an ongoing phrase," she uttered under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing," she sniffed, her wry smile turning sweet as she turned and wiped away her tears.

"Right," he nodded cautiously. "You still coming for New Year's then?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Molly cheerfully replied. "Maybe I'll even find someone to give me a kiss." She scoffed, "One can hope, right?"

John smiled kindly and gave her arm a pat. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Molly; someone's bound to come along."

"Mmmm," she hummed and let out a sad sigh. If he only knew that someone had indeed come along, around the same time he had a semtex vest strapped to his chest. "Think I'm gonna call it an early day," Molly smiled, brushing past him.

"See ya later then?" John called behind her.

"Most likely, we both know six forms of something will show up tomorrow," she hollered over her shoulder, ditching her lab coat on the way out the door.

* * *

><p>Molly took a detour on the way home, stopping at a nearby park just to stop and think. Watch the normal happy couples. God how she hated them, only because she doubted she could ever be one of them. How could she be, it wasn't as if they could ever have a normal relationship. She hardly budged when a large looming figure sat beside her. Lighting up a cigarette and tossing back his head as he exhaled languidly.<p>

"You feed the cat?" She asked casually.

"Mmhmm."

"Why are you here?"

"Why are you?" Sebastian looked down at her with steely blue eyes and smirked. "You never go this way." He stated after taking another drag.

"You followed me?" She huffed, drawing in her lower lip shaking her head disapprovingly. "Why?"

"For the same reason I do everything I do, Mouse. It's. My. Job."

Molly stared out into theI'l crowd, expressionless. "So now I'm what's petty?"

Sebastian let out a dark laugh, inhaling deeply, "Not to him."

"Do you know where he is?"

"I do."

Of course he did, Sebastian knew everything. Perhaps that is why she was jealous (she wasn't really). Molly closed her eyes and took a breath.

"Is he okay…no, never mind, obviously he's insane, but that's beside the point."

At this Sebastian smirked. "He misses you, if that's what you mean. He won't say it, but you already know that. That's why we came back and started this Holiday…thing…for you." The last words were forced out through ground teeth and for a moment Molly couldn't help but think perhaps Sebastian was a bit jealous too. Not that she was.

"What will you do when they find out about the pair of you?" Sebastian asked, putting out his cigarette on the heel of his boot and flicking the end off into the grass. "That'll be a sight for sore eyes."

The wicked grin was back on Molly face and growing steady. She reached out and patted his leg gently, "Well, now Seb, we both know Sherlock Holmes is many things, but one thing he most definitely not is petty."

.

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><p>.<p>

**A/N: 5 GOLDEN RINGS! sort of... I have to thank my fabulous snuggle bug...who will probably never read this... for the heads in slings thing, he's a doll and supports my Christmas Slaying (bwahahahahah still cracks me up) So this is my way of begging for reviews and asking for help I suppose for kills. Welll we got a small peek into Jim's mind (wasn't that fun!?) And Sebastian popped up (Oooo that was fun too!) And as for Donovan...yeah...I don't know if she'll be around often but I needed someone other than Lestrade. But hey...I like Lestrade. So kill me if you must. And now I'll leave you all be, right after I plead once more for your lovely input. It keeps me going and in a Molliarty mood. It's oh so hard to be living in a fandom that is strongly Sherlock/John based (not that there is anything wrong with that, mind you) I get buried rather quickly you guys make me super happy and as long as I'm happy I'll keep going. ...even if I should be working on other things...sorry Holmes.**

**You read it, hopefully you loved it (or at least liked it) now review it!**

**Shelly.**


	6. Day Six

**Day Six**

"He's becoming awfully boastful isn't he," John sighed as six fresh bodies rolled into the morgue.

"Ohh, he's always been boastful, John; he wants to draw a crowd." Sherlock smirked, taking the liberty of lining the bodies up in front of six empty coolers. At this rate they were sure to run out of room.

Molly walked through the doors coffee in hand and a scowl on her face when she saw the deducing duo already there so early in the morning with a row of bodies already set up for her to have a look at.

"What are we on, six? Are there geese in those bags?" She mocked, rolling her eyes and taking the file from John's hand as she approached him.

According to the report it had been six men, elderly in age, laid out in lounge chairs along the north end of Parliament, directly in front of Elizabeth Tower. Pictures had shown that they were posed as if they had been sun bathing even if it had been late December; unclothed with the exception of boxers shorts, sunglasses and a streak of suntan lotion down their noses. The one on the end had a beer bottle in his hand, which was now dangling playfully from Sherlock's hand from inside an evidence bag.

"Would you like to see what this gentleman was drinking, Molly? Strange brand, never heard of it myself," he said with a sly smile.

Molly took the bag from him and rolled the bottle over. 'Geezers - a – Layin' was written across the bottle in an old English script across a scroll in red lettering.

"Six geezers a layin'," Molly glanced at the body bags on the tables. "Poor bastards," Molly sighed and shook her head, handing the bag back to Sherlock and making her way over to the bags to prepare them for autopsy.

"Oh, don't play sympathetic, Molly," Sherlock quipped, "You didn't know these men, there is no reason for you to feel anything for their death."

Molly rolled each body out onto the table, enjoying the fact that she was managing to creep under Sherlock's skin, if only just a little. She briefly checked the first body for any obvious cause of death, lacerations, puncture wounds, bruising and the like. She felt his breath along the back of her neck and she turned her eyes up, finding herself staring into a steel gray void.

"You don't want to play this game, Molly, he will lose," Sherlock kept his voice low so John wouldn't hear. Poor thing was still so naive to it all.

"This, Sherlock, _is life_. And the only ones who lost here are these men." Molly spread her hands and waved them in a semi-circle around her. She waited until he had turned his back before she continued. "And perhaps you, Sherlock Holmes, for letting them die," her voice droned as she continued on with her work.

Sherlock's head turned, his cold eyes narrowed as they peered down upon her and she pretending not to notice. The corner of his mouth turned up in a forced snuffed laugh. Molly knew she had reached him with that one, she knew that it was killing him that they now had twenty one deaths accounted for and not a single suspect. Well, that wasn't quite true, Sherlock did have a suspect in mind, and a good one at that, it just so happened that he wasn't the type to leave incriminating evidence behind.

"These men were close to death by the looks of it already, Ms. Hooper, I'm sure you'll come to your own conclusions soon enough," Sherlock remarked blandly, "I'd go into details, but I'm already wasting valuable time being here when I can be out there hunting down Moriarty."

"Honestly, Sherlock, for a man so brilliant you are quite daft." Molly lifted her eyes to meet the surprised stare on his face. "If it were Moriarty he'd have let you in on it by now, sent you a flirty little text, but still here you are chasing nothing but your run of the mill serial killer."

"You're wrong, he's playing the game," Sherlock growled.

"No, you are, against your own mind; and clearly you're losing. It takes two to play, Sherlock, and both players are usually aware of each other from the beginning."

They locked eyes for a few beats of silence before Sherlock turned away from her, keeping his eyes on her until the last moment possible. He blinked and focused his attention on the Doctor.

"Let's go, John."

"Should I bring anything?" Molly's voice cut through the room, just as they reached the door.

"I'm sorry?"

"No, you're fine."

Sherlock and John spoke at the same time, the detective looking down at the doctor with a question across his face. There was a pregnant pause before Sherlock took in a breath and nodded knowingly.

"Ah, yes, New Years, that unfortunate event Mrs. Hudson has forced upon our home."

John rolled his eyes, "Ignore him, Molly."

_I usually do_, she thought to herself, but instead simply nodded with a smile on her face. "You sure you don't want me to bring anything?"

"Don't worry about it, just yourself is fine," John said in an awkward attempt to be funny, she laughed lightly to please him. Best to keep at least one of them on her side, and she honestly did like John as a person.

She used to like Sherlock as well, sometimes she thought she used to love him; but it was the genius that pulled her in, the same genius that James let her see after sweet Jim from I.T. went away. But it was the dark that ensnared her and bound her to him like a moth to a flame. All her life she had pretended to blend in; mundane school, mundane job, mundane Molly, not anymore, with Jim, Molly felt empowered, Molly felt alive.

* * *

><p>It was hours later when all the tests she had ordered came back from the labs, around the same time when Lestrade had sent over the now known names of the six men that were now resting in their own coolers.<p>

Benjamin Asner

Benjamin Fredrickson

Benjamin Jellinek

Benjamin Kramer

Benjamin Roberts

Benjamin Ulinski

All six of them had been battling some sort form of cancer and they all had their tox-screens had come back all the same; with a higher than normal amount of morphine in their system. They had been mercy killings as far as she was concerned, a first for Jim. She thought back to the names, two of Jewish decent, one German, the other two seemed generic enough, no real attachment of any kind there; so why them? Jim didn't exactly do mercy…unless he liked you.

Molly thought back over her autopsy, racking her mind for anything that might have stuck out…oh…oh stuck out indeed. She began to laugh at the thought and how it escaped her mind for this long she didn't know. Each of the men just so happened to be particularly well endowed. Stick that with the location and you have your self an interesting pun indeed. She couldn't resist pulling out her cell phone and sharing her amusement.

'**Big Ben', Jim? Cute. I wonder if raising the flag at half-mast in this situation would be inappropriate or not ;) –MH**

She grinned when his reply was almost instantaneous.

**You like that, did you? Lovely gentleman; met them while blending in at the hospital. –JM**

She knew he had to have met them before, knowing it was at the hospital made her question even harder to ask, but she was curious. Her mother had always cursed her for being curious; Jim often praised her for it.

**And being the gentleman you are, you decided to lend them a helping hand? –MH **

Molly grimaced slightly when she pressed the send key.

**Oh, my sweet pet, but of course. It was the least I could do. –JM**

Molly's brow furrowed in confusion at his reply.

**What does that mean, Jim? –MH **

**Wouldn't you like to know? ;) –JM**

She huffed and rolled her eyes before she began typing.

**Well, I'd ask one of the Big 6 over here, but I'm afraid they're giving me the cold shoulder. –MH**

**OOoooo Big 6! I like that Molls. And look how cute you are making morgue humor. I could just eat you up. –JM**

She liked it when he was flirty, but right now it was annoying her because it would lead to nothing. He wouldn't be crawling into her bed tonight; he'd be watching her from somewhere else while she was alone.

**What? Through your mobile? –MH **

She sighed and stuffed her phone back into her lab coat; straightening up the paperwork on her desk and preparing to leave for the day.

Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out with a groan.

**Come now, you know daddy's working. We'll have time to play later. -JM**

Molly only shook her head.

**You've gone quiet on me Molly-bear. –JM**

She returned the phone without a reply and made her way out to the car park. She managed to make it half way home before her phone chirped again, and when she walked into her flat and tossed her lab coat over the arm of the couch she heard it once more. James Moriarty hated to be ignored; he also never went through this much trouble to keep talking to her so he must have been really bored.

She fed Toby, giving him a quick scratch when he rubbed against her legs and flopped down on the sofa; scoffing as she snatched the phone out of her pocket and checked the messages.

**Molly? –JM**

**You can't ignore me, Hooper, we both know that. –JM**

Molly let out a small huff on annoyance, "Psssh, still doesn't mean I have to reply, James." She toed off her shoes and lied back on the couch; phone still curled in her fingers as she gazed at her reflection in the blank television screen.

The phone rang now and as much as she dreaded answering it she wanted, no, needed to hear his voice fill her ears. She slid her finger across the green key and held it to her hear, not saying a word, knowing he could hear her just breathing on the other end.

"That's a good girl," Jim's voice flowed through the receiver.

Molly scowled and didn't say a word, knowing full on that he could see her.

"Oh I see, still giving me the silent treatment, we-ll," he drew the word out, "I can fix that," Jim said in a playful tone. "Remember what I told you, Molls, last time we spoke on the phone, I asked you to give me three days. Three days and _I _would _come to you_. You remember that, love?"

Molly nodded, licking her lips, sitting up with urgency. She could hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. "That's tomorrow," she finally whispered. "Jim that's tomorrow!" Her face spread into a wide grin and a hand threaded into her hair.

"Yes, Molly, that is indeed tomorrow."

"And I'm actually going to see you? In the flesh, not over some video chat or some other bloody contraption," she said brashly, looking around the room. Wondering just where he had placed cameras.

"I was hoping to see quite a bit of flesh, myself," his lilt purred through the phone.

Molly took her bottom lip between her teeth and smirked, ignoring the warm flush on her cheeks.

"Have you gone shy on me, Molls?"

"No, I just haven't seen you in a while…Why do you have Sebastian watch me, James?"

Jim sighed into the phone, "Molly, you're an intelligent girl; surely you can figure that one out for yourself."

It was Molly's turn to sigh. "I'm going to Baker Street tomorrow, New Years gathering at Mrs. Hudson's request; it would have seemed off if I were to turn it down."

"Mmm, yes, it would have. I'm sure that idiot Inspector is thrilled that you are attending."

Molly snorted, "Jealous, James?"

"No. Need I be?" he stated flatly.

"No," she said softly, "just be here."

Usually it was Jim who would abruptly end their conversations, but the tease and Jim's constant changing emotions were tugging at her insides. She quickly mashed the end symbol and flopped back down on the on the couch with her head in her arms, ignoring the mewing cat that was pawing at her legs.

Tomorrow was going to be hell. Seven bodies, New Years at Baker Street and Jim all in one day; she didn't even know how to begin to process that. The simple thought of it gave her a headache. Her phone chimed, signaling she had a text and she flung an arm around until she found it embedded in the cushions and brought it up to read it.

**Save me a kiss. x –JM **

Molly chuckled and shook her head, as if she had planned on actually participating in that silly tradition anyhow, let alone with anyone there.

**I'll think about it. ;) –MH**

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

Jim's lips drew across his sharp teeth in a grin as he read her reply. He liked playful Molly, he wouldn't tolerate such behavior from anyone else simply because they said it to annoy him, she did it to tease. It turned out that Jim liked to be teased to a certain extent, perhaps it was because he had never let anyone close enough to try it before, they always ended up dead.

"I'm assuming you want me to follow her to that bloody gathering tomorrow," Sebastian muttered from his leaning spot against the wall.

Jim nodded, "Keep your distance, Holmes will catch on if you're not careful."

"I'm always careful," Sebastian snapped back.

"So I see," Jim sneered, "Just like the night before last, you were real careful then, got a nice gash to show for it."

"If your man wouldn't have fucked up, I wouldn't have had a problem to deal with at all," he scoffed narrowing his eyes at the Irishman.

Jim cocked his head to the side and smirked, "He did fuck up, didn't he?" Jim stood and with soft steps walked over to Sebastian, "But here's the thing, I tell you to do something… AND YOU DO IT!" Jim turned on his heel, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over the back of the chair that was set up in front of the monitors. "I'm going to bed."

"You're going to mess everything up going to see her.

Jim turned back with a glint in his dark eyes and a grin on his face. "No, Seb, that's where you're wrong. We're so much the same, me and her, if anything, it's going to make things much more interesting."

* * *

><p>.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Did ya miss me? I got a few nice reviews while I was away, that was nice! I really expected to write during the actual Christmas season but after NaNoWriMo was over I got thrust into Big Bang Theory fan fic and that is a whole different mindset of writing and it put me off course. I cant be all lovey dovey and then come over here and start a murder spree within hours...my brain may not be right but come on! A big shout out to chelliebear4 for giving me the idea for day 6, I would have been stuck on that for a while. As per usual, reviews are most welcomed and enjoyed, let me know any thoughts, concerns, ideas for future days...hell just stop on by and say hi!**

**Shelly.**


	7. Day Seven

**a/n: I never leave a note up top, but this chapter deals with a touchy subject, and while this is Moriarty for godness sake and all rules should be off the table I just hope you all don't hate me. Carry on.**

**Day Seven**

Jim watched her prepare for work in the morning, as he did every morning, with a pressing look etched into his features. He was fighting an inner battle with himself whether or not to warn her about today's arrival at the morgue. While Molly Hooper was well aware of what he did and oddly enough supported him in her own way; she still had…reservations. He couldn't fault her for that, even if his innermost-self wanted to.

She hadn't been bad all her life after all, for fucks sake, he still wasn't sure how bad she was; but he could sense the dark looming inside of her and he had spent a good amount of time drawing it up to the surface. It would be such a pity to watch it sink back down again.

He smirked at the last thought.

"Everything all right, boss? You seem a bit…off this morning," Moran questioned while turning on the kettle.

Jim said nothing. He only sat and watched with his elbows on his knees and his fingertips pressed together in a peak against his pursed lips.

Sebastian sighed after taking a long drag from his cigarette. "She asked about you, you know? How you were and all, why you have me followin' her around."

Jim's eyes slowly closed and when they opened they were narrowing on the tall sandy blonde in the corner of the room.

"Wasn't very gentle with me either…but you know that."

Jim stood, the back of the chair scraping across the wood as he went and his shoes clacking. He stopped in front of Moran and removed the cigarette from his lips, swiftly bringing it down with the lit end upon the man's arm. It made a faint hiss and the smell of burnt hair and flesh flared up beneath their noses. Sebastian flinched, just barely, but didn't make a sound.

"I believe I asked you once before to refrain from your disgusting habit in the flat, the smoke sinks into my clothes," Jim said flatly with a small head tilt. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, you have work to do."

"You could've asked nicely," Sebastian sneered.

"I did, the first time," Jim growled returning to his seat in front of the monitors. "Go on, off you pop," his tone cheery now as he jerked his thumb toward the door.

He would tell her, not completely, she still needed to have that look of surprise after all, but he would give her a slight warning. He'd be paying her a visit soon enough and he didn't want his Molly-bear upset with him.

His fingers grazed over the letters as he opened up a new message box, slowly beginning to type out the letters one by one. He deleted them quickly and exited to the home screen. Why bother with a trifling text when he can have the pleasure of hearing her voice. Yes, he preferred the easy mode of communication, simple and emotionless, but for this he wanted her to be able to hear him.

She picked up on the second ring; _such an eager little thing, how adorable, _he thought to himself.

"Jim? Is everything all right? Moran is looming outside my building rather early; it's not like you to call."

Yes, adorable, she had been worried something was wrong. "Mornin' love." The words fell from his lips in a thick Irish drawl. "Nothing is the matter, pet; sent him away early is all. Got tired of him being around."

She sighed a breath of relief. "So why the phone call, James? Like I said, it's not like you to call."

Jim's eyes shut involuntarily at the use of his name, loving the way it slid from her mouth; bringing back those intimate memories that he kept safe in his mind. "Listen, Molls," his voice now more serious, "the bodies today," he stopped and let out a breath.

"Jim? Jim, what is it?...Oh god, do I know them?!" she almost yelled. He came into contact with a lot of people it was only a matter of time before he crossed paths with someone she was acquainted with.

"No, no, no," he assured her, "Nothing like that."

"Then what?"

"They're young, rather young, and female-"

"Children, James?!" she scolded, "You can't be serious! For some stupid Christmas…whatever this is!"

"Molly-" he tried to cut in.

"That's taking things a little far, Jim. I thought even you were better than that. I thought just maybe that-"

"DAMNIT, MOLLY LISTEN TO ME!" he screamed into the phone, causing her to go rigid on the other end. He took a deep breath. "Now, if you'll allow me to continue. Young yes, but believe me when I say, Molly, that I had no hand in their deaths."

"Why are you telling me this," she whispered into the receiver.

Jim ran a hand through his short dark hair. "Honestly, I haven't a clue, not in the slightest."

There was a pause of silence on the line.

"I suppose, I wanted to warn you. While heartless I may be, we both know, Molly, yours is quite large, it even has a weak spot for tortured souls such as myself."

Molly sighed, "You're not heartless, James, if you were you wouldn't have called."

Jim smirked, she had him there. Indeed Molly Hooper had wormed her way inside the depth of James Moriarty's soul and lodged herself there, inevitably.

"Until later then, Molly," Jim finalized, abruptly ending their call. He didn't want to give her time to hear the snicker in his voice, the reassurance that she had a hold over him. He knew it was there, but he was damn sure he was going to let her know exactly how tight the grip was.

Not yet anyway.

.

* * *

><p>Molly sighed, slipping her mobile into the front pocket of her lab coat. A heartless man James Moriarty was indeed not. Corrupted, insane, a tendency for violence, yes; but heartless? No. He was anything but. His heart could be a cold, cold place if you didn't know your way around it, but if he took a liking to you, and he let you in just the teensiest bit…the warmth that lie within could surprise you. It hardly ever came out in words, and when it did it was absurdly subtle. It was in his eyes, those deep mahogany eyes and the feather light touches that would dance across her skin that sent shivers throughout her core. Someone without a heart wouldn't look nor touch her the way he did, they simply couldn't.<p>

He wasn't lying about the victims that now lied in her morgue. Lestrade had forced Sherlock out once his pestering drove Molly to tears. She would have liked to think they were nothing more than crocodile tears; but no, they were every bit as real as the seven young girls that were at eternal rest in front of her.

* * *

><p>"<em>Still denying it, Molly? Only one man is capable of killing children without a second thought," Sherlock had dully remarked once the bodies were exposed.<em>

_Seven beautiful young girls; the youngest age ten, the oldest not yet seventeen. Each one was dressed in a pristine white ballerina get up, complete with headdress. They had been found, presumably, forcibly drowned in the fountain at Trafalgar Square early morning by a tourist no less. _

_A God damned tourist._

_Scrawled across the space between the shoulder blades of the eldest girl was the writing, 'Seven swans a sinking.'_

"_These girls are dead, Sherlock, and all you can talk about is Moriarty!"_

_Jim had said he hadn't a hand in their death; surely the drowning had been a set up. He couldn't have possibly drowned these poor children. Molly could hardly look at them without her eyes welling up, her thoughts going to her cousin's children._

"_The quicker you cooperate, the quicker this is done, Ms. Hooper," he hissed so no one else could hear._

"_And the quicker you get it through your thick head that this has nothing to do with me, the quicker you can focus on your job!"_

_Sherlock's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "My job is to catch the killer. A man I have every reason to believe is James Moriarty; the very same James Moriarty THAT YOU SLEPT WITH!" his fists came down on her desk and the pens jumped from her mug and rolled onto the floor. _

_Lestrade strode up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "That's enough, Sherlock."_

_A stray tear had already fallen from each of Molly's eyes and she took her bottom lip between her teeth, resisting an outburst herself._

"_But you didn't think of that, did you Molly? Did you think of the repercussions it would have when he came back to start anew? What happens when we track him down and he gives you up, hmm? What then? I warned you not to play with spiders, Molly."_

"_Sherlock." Greg's voice was firm and his dark eyes were narrowed slits. "I said that's enough."_

_Sherlock smirked._

"_You really don't care do you?" Molly whispered with a hitch in her breath. "About the effects these sort of things have on the rest of us, how it feels to see death on a daily basis and not show emotion. I do it because it's my job; you do it because you simply don't give a fuck."_

_Molly shook her head and licked her lips. "You know, the funny thing most of it doesn't even faze me anymore, I see so many bodies, broken in some way or form and you follow up with some backhanded comment. Death is just another part of life. I realized that real quick. But then this happens, youth and innocence. Children that have had their lives stolen!" she paused to swallow the building in her throat, "and you still don't care. About them, about me, about anything at all. It's just you in the end, and if you're lucky John will stick around, because lord knows nobody else will ever have the patience."_

_Sherlock just stared at her and for a second she thought she saw remorse in the detective's eyes, but surely that was impossible. _

_Lestrade took him gently by the elbow and tugged him toward the door. "I think it'd be best if we leave."_

_Sherlock glanced between the Inspector and the mortician twice before giving a nod to the greying man and turned back to Molly once more._

"_I do hope our little…altercation has not upset your plans to join us this evening, Ms. Hooper. John will be quite upset if you don't show."_

_Molly drew a hand down her face and sighed. "We'll see, Sherlock."_

* * *

><p>That had been nearly two hours ago and yet she had still not touched the bodies. The girls still lie fully clothed on their metal tables and Molly sat at her desk simply staring across the room at them. She had done this a thousand times, even children, but this time she knew why they were here and it was beginning to strike a little close to home. Her phone chirped and buzzed against the wood grain of her desk; she didn't have to check it to know it was from Jim.<p>

**You still have a job to do Molly-bear, as hard as it may be. –JM**

Molly let out a breath and drew her lips in, biting down softly before releasing them.

**One of them is ten years old, James! –MH**

**I'm aware of the ages, Molly; however I can personally guarantee I had nothing to do with their deaths; I already told you as such. Cruel as I may be, killing children isn't in my repertoire. –JM**

Molly tugged at her hair. She knew that, but even so he was still behind the act and it still put a knot in her chest.

**Never the less, Jim, you arranged to have them placed there. The parents will go through a grief like no other. –MH**

His reply was quick.

**They had no parents. –JM**

Molly drew in a sharp breath as her eyes scanned the words. No parents? Where did he find them? Her phone ringing with a sharp trill.

He started to speak before she had the time to answer.

"You would have known that much, Molly, if you would have simply read the police reports, but instead you decided to have a little spat with dear old Sherlock. Now, if you'd like we can discuss things later, fine; but I really need you to do your job, Molls," his voice softened as he blew out a sigh. "I need you to remain normal, to keep being you. I know you know how imperative that is."

"Yeah, I know. I'll get on with it, don't worry," she forced out.

"Come now, love, I've been working real hard and have waited a long time to see you. I'd hate for our reunion to be spoiled because of this."

She could hear the clear pout in his voice.

"I'm sorry, Jim. It-it's just they're so young-"

"You've performed autopsies on younger," he interrupted flatly.

"Yes, but they weren't connected to you!" she spat back at him. "You may not have been the one to end it, but you still had a hand in their final place. I wish I could say you're better than that," she said softly.

"But I'm not, am I? Poor little Mouse, trembling when things get too frightening," he sneered into the line. "You know what I am, Molly, you knew what you were signing yourself up for! Unless you regret it of course."

She fell silent.

"Do you? Do you regret it, Molly?"

"Regret what?" she finally breathed.

"Me."

Molly closed her eyes and her tongue slowly seeped out to wet her lips. "No, James, I don't."

Jim chuckled.

"But you frustrate me."

"Mmm," he huffed, "frustration, I can deal with that. I have many a ways to deal with that, pet."

Molly rolled her eyes, "God Jim-"

He cut her off again, "None of that now, love, save it for later."

She couldn't help but let out a small laugh, "I need to get back to work."

"Yes, you do. Take care, Molls, and do try to not be upset. I really don't want that to put a damper on things."

She heard a soft mew in the background and the clink of a glass.

"Where are you?"

"Oh…around," he sang with a smile in his voice.

"We'll talk later," she sighed with finality and hung up the phone; letting her head hit the desk with a light thud. It wasn't as if she could stay mad at him for long anyway, of course she wouldn't be upset by the time he showed up. Chances were she was going to be upset with the company that was going to be at 221B though. There wasn't a way to avoid Sherlock's glare for long, nor his impending threats.

* * *

><p>It was with a heavy heart Molly stepped back into her flat. Jim had been honest, there was no way he had been responsible for the death of those girls, for ironically they had each been severely dehydrated under the care of a local wayward girl's home. Apparently some girls were more 'wayward' than most and the consequences proved to be dire. At least that is what Molly assumed, she'd wait until she'd spoken to Jim to finish her report. She could put it off for a day; Lestrade had seen her get emotional and she could chock it up to that.<p>

It was quiet, she noticed, more quiet than usual. Where was Toby?

She wandered carefully into the kitchen to find his bowl half full with a chunk of roast beef and on the counter top sat a bottle of whiskey next to an empty tumbler. Molly breathed out a laugh and shook her head, stepping into the living room and coming across a sound asleep tabby cat stretched out along the couch.

"Spoiled," she whispered down at him. "Let's see what else dear old Jim left behind."

In her room she found an emerald green cocktail dress hanging from the door. Strapless, with beads and sequins adorning the top, a pleated bodice and rosettes lining the bottom. A faint smile graced her face as her fingers ran down the silk fabric. There was a note attached to the hanger.

_Sorry, couldn't stick around, something came up. Enjoy your time at Baker Street…but not too much so I can't enjoy your company later. I always did love you in the colour green, goes well with your eyes._

_See you soon._

_-Jim XxX_

"Oh, James," she sighed, silently cursing the fact that she still had to go to this damned thing at Baker street at all.

.

* * *

><p>She had left her hair down and had decided to pair her dress with a simple pair of black flats. Heels never agreed with her and if she had to be here she might as well look good and be comfortable; and look good she did, judging by the way Lestrade's mouth fell at the sight of her.<p>

"Careful, Inspector, you're bound to catch a bug in that state," Sherlock mumbled whilst sipping from his glass.

"Oh, Molly! Hello dear, how are you?" Mrs. Hudson beamed as John took her coat.

"Very well, thanks. How about yourself?"

"Ehhh, well, can't complain, now can I? Got my health and all," she shrugged.

"Drink?" A voice asked from behind her.

Molly turned to see a flustered Greg Lestrade holding a flute of champagne out to her with a shy smile playing on his lips.

"How's Karen and the kids?" Molly offered with a polite smile, her lipstick leaving a stain behind on the glass.

"Oh, good, good, think we've finally got things sorted, her and I."

"No you don't." Sherlock's voice floated across the room from his seat in front of his computer. "She's sleeping with the P.E. teacher."

He gained a heated glare from everyone in the room.

"So, John," she tried again. Maybe turning the conversation to someone else would help things. "Heard you were going off to your sisters?"

"Yeah," he replied while taking a pull from the beer in his hand, leaning in toward the pretty dark haired girl sitting next to him, Jamie or Janette or something (Molly really didn't care, he'd have a new one within a week or two).

"Sherlock was complaining…or saying," she let out an innocent laugh, passing it off as nerves.

"For the first time ever she's cleaning up her act," John continued, "she's off the booze!"

"Nope," Sherlock popped.

"Shut up, Sherlock," John snapped.

_Or perhaps not,_ Molly thought with a grimace.

"And what of you, Molly," Sherlock mused, finally turning his head from the screen. "Meeting with new boyfriend tonight, or perhaps an old one?" he quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"Not unless I'm taking one of you home with me," she replied assuringly with a sharp tilt of her head.

"Come now, Molly, you hardly dress to fit yourself at all; let alone in a colour that suits both the tone of your skin and the brown in your eyes," he pressed.

"And yet, you noticed. Only the great Sherlock Holmes would be able to dish out a compliment and be able to pass judgment at the same time," Molly sucked her teeth and shook her head with disproval.

"Those were not my intentions, and I apologize if you took offence." His grey eyes were scrunched in concern.

_Hah!_ She thought to herself _he had actually felt a twinge of guilt._ Of course knowing Sherlock he very well could have been putting on as much of a ruse as she was. Playing the part and behaving for the sake of the good Doctor and his land lady.

"You should leave your hair down more often, it's…"

_Here comes the insult-_

"…nice," he finished, the words escaping his lips slowly.

Well at least he did know how to give a straight compliment…even if it apparently pained him to do so.

Molly smiled softly and nodded her head, "Thanks," she said simply, stepping around him to get another drink.

It was going to be a long night.

.

* * *

><p>It was a damn good thing Moran had followed her to Baker Street because she was in no state to drive after she stumbled out onto the sidewalk. He was surprised that gloomy Inspector hadn't attempted to offer taking her home. Sebastian waited, having already jimmied his way into her car and was in the driver's seat when she opened the door.<p>

Molly scoffed. "Should've known he'd have sent you to babysit me."

"Just get in the car, Hooper," he groaned, fiddling with his phone.

**Be back with her soon, boss, going to get some coffee in her before I bring her back to you. –SM**

**She's pissed? Not that I blame her, lock me in a room with Sherlock Holmes and company I would be too I suppose. –JM**

**Don't be long, Seb. –JM**

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the replies and drove off in the direction of the nearest petrol station.

"My flat is the other way, Moron…Moran," she corrected herself with a snigger. "Does Jim ever fuck that up through text; it is only one letter after all." Her voice switched to a bad low Irish accent. "Do as I say, Moron, do it now, Moron!" She giggled into her shoulder.

He shook his head in annoyance. "Shut it, Hooper. We're gettin' you coffee, I'm not bringing you back in this state to Jim," he said with a harsh laugh. "That's for damn sure."

Moran sat in the car and waited idly for her to down two full cups of black coffee with sugar only; no cream. He handed her two aspirin to prepare her for later and dropped her off in front of her building.

"I'll park it and drop the keys by in the morning. Now I suggest you get up there." He handed her a single key, the key to her door.

Jim's key.

Molly nodded, her eyes already beginning to look clearer than they had when he picked her up not but an hour ago.

"Thanks, Seb," she said with an honest smile and tightened her coat around her before stepping out of the car.

* * *

><p>She stood before her door, flattening her hair down and twisting her hands together nervously. She had almost thought about knocking, but it was her flat after all, that wouldn't make much sense. Then again nothing with Jim ever did.<p>

She slid the key into the lock and quietly stepped into the darkened flat, shutting the door behind her with a soft thump and she re-clicked the lock and fastened the chain. A smile immediately found its way onto her face; she could smell his aftershave in the air and the bottle of whiskey had now been moved to the end table next to the couch, on the back of the chair in the living room hung his suit jacket.

She tiptoed further into the room and saw his form lying across the couch. One arm tucked behind his head and the other rested on his chest, his breathing steady. She shrugged off her jacket and let it rest on the back of the couch, crouching down beside him. Her fingers gently drifted into his hair and down the length of his face, softly stroking the stubble on his cheek. His eyelids fluttered briefly before they revealed the deep brown orbs that rest beneath them.

His eyes found hers in the dark and all the anger that she might have had earlier in the day simply vanished.

"Hello, James," she whispered, her hand still caressing his face.

He smiled, the hand that had been behind his head now moving to grab hold the one she had on his cheek and press a slow open mouthed kiss to the inside of her wrist, the miniscule touch of his tongue to her skin sending a shock throughout her body.

"Molly," he breathed with a grin and a glint in his dark eyes despite the dimness in the room.

She gave her head a jerk back, signaling him to sit up. "Come on, you've always hated this couch, said it was the most uncomfortable thing you've ever sat on."

Jim stretched his arms above his head, "That was before that shit bed I'm sleeping on now. _That_, my dear, beats your couch by far."

Molly smiled and ran a hand down the length of his tie. "I'll put on some water," she said softly, getting up and turning to leave. She was stopped by his fingers wrapping around her wrist, forcing her to turn back to him. He took both her hands in his and stood, pressing his forehead to hers.

"No tea," he whispered. "I'm much too tired for tea." He leaned back, releasing her hands to click on the table lamp and then proceeded to look her over. "I was right," he said simply.

"About?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

"The colour." He was behind her now, his hands ghosting over her waistline, tracing her form but not quite touching.

Teasing.

"It's perfect on you," his deep voice breathed on her neck as he swept her hair from her shoulder to drop a kiss there.

Still teasing.

"It's after midnight, Molls, I never got my midnight kiss," he murmured against her skin, scruff tickling her neckline. His hands landed on her then, spinning her in his arms, her hands landing on his chest as her fingers began to loosen the knot in his tie. She slid the end out so that it hung loosely on each side of his collar, all while they stood with their heads together, sharing one another's breath. She pulled back slightly, his eyes nearly black with desire and she gave a tug on the tie ends, bringing him down to her. She paused over his lips, allowing hers to graze his only a little. Brushing but never fusing, tasting the remnants of his whiskey and chewing gum. Her tongue swept lightly against his lip when she finally pulled him to her completely and they were both immediately lost within each other.

With an inhale and a shudder she welcomed the familiar heat back into her life, her hands moving behind his head and fisting in his hair while his pressed into her lower back, molding her to him, pulling her deeper into him as they backed up until they hit the wall. She slipped the tie from his collar and began to work at the buttons on his shirt, anxiously tugging it from his trousers. She pushed it from his shoulders and took the time to drape it over the chair where his jacket sat.

It still was Jim after all, the damn thing would have to be ironed and pressed in the morning as well. If he stuck around that long.

She returned to him, her arms slinking around his waist from behind and pressing a kiss to a freckle on his shoulder blade.

"Bed, James. Now."

She grinned against his skin when she felt the flutter in his stomach at the sound of her demand. She took a breath and stepped back away from him, sauntering back into her bedroom, her fingers finding the zip on the side of her dress and slowly beginning to slide it down. Again her hand was stopped by his as he aided her in unzipping and then lowering the dress so she could step out of it.

And being Jim, he replaced it on the hanger on her door.

She rolled her eyes with a smile.

He backed her up until her knees hit the bed and Molly crawled backward until she had reached her pillows, chewing on her lower lip and twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Jim added his trousers to a hanger and hung them with her dress and climbed onto the bed, hovering over her body, his fingertips going from her shoulder to her hip.

"I've missed this." He pressed a kiss to the inside of her neck. "I've missed you," he admitted quietly.

She pulled back, cradling his head in her hands. "You mean it? You're not just saying it to win me over."

Jim's eyebrows arched and then he laughed. "Oooohh Molly, sweet, sweet Molly," he sighed. "Once upon a time, perhaps; but no, as much as I shouldn't have, I did indeed miss you." He captured her lips and she let out a whimper when his hand began to drift down and skim along the waist band of her panties.

"What happens when this is all over, James? If we make it through this?"

"You and I are going to conquer the world, Molly Hooper," he replied huskily against her mouth. "Just you wait and see."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**A/N:...AND HELLO JIMBO! So how was it? Did we all enjoy your Molliarty reunion? I wanted it to be a little smexier but I had an argument with my own honey and well...I wasn't feeling so sexy after that. So sorry about that. Plus this is only rated T anyway :D Perhaps in the future we will have a ratings jump...maybe. And yes I totally took the Christmas party scene and converted it to my liking for New Years...and does anyone know Lestrade's wife's name? Was it ever mentioned in Season One?... Okay, well...I'm sleepy so night! and don't forget to leave some lovely words in that box below!**

**Shelly**


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